pdf available - Multiple Choices

day we were still 12; todayonly one, I, by
myself. But no use thinking of what happened.
And my mother will no longer do the thinking for
usshe is dead! I must take care of myself from
now on in this horrible place and time." I got up,
crawled outside, looked around mea dead stillness
greeted me. The farmer's house was still
burning. I went back to the previous hiding place,
and jumped back into the hole to look for a knife
with which to defend myself. As I looked for a
knife, I suddenly heard a voice calling, "Oy, oy,
oy, Bentsele" (my younger brother's name). I
froze from fear! But soon I recognized the voice of
Yoel (Krutsh) Gurtenshteyn, who had been with
us in the hideout.
I ran over to him and we embraced each
other. There was so much to tell that we could
not get a word out. And we began to weep so
bitterly that we could not stop. Yoel screamed
out loud from pain. Yoel was wounded in eight
places; he hardly had an unharmed spot on his
body. He told me he had fainted from his wounds,
but when he felt the heat of the fire, he woke up
and somehow crawled out of the burning house.
He had tried to rouse or awaken some of the
people who had been shot, including my mother,
but all were dead. He crawled out through the
window and somehow pulled himself toward the
uncovered hiding place. I tried to stop the gushing
blood somehow, bandaged him up somehow
with rags, and pulled him out to the previous
hiding place.
We spent six days together, days I will never
in my life forgetpain, agony and suffering, the
fear that I went through while lying there near
him is undescribable. I did not close an eye during
all this time, for he was hallucinating and he
would begin to scream that he was dying and
would begin telling me of his terrible nightmares.
I would then lie without breathing, shaking like a
leaf, lest we be heard.
On the sixth day, right after another one of his
dreaded attacks, Yoel asked me to bring him some
fresh water from a nearby well before he died. I
told him it was impossible to do so because the
Polish Home Army bandits, the "freedom fighters,"
would see me. But instead of answering me,
he started screaming very loud.
THE ANNIHILATION 251
Thinking that I'd rather die while running
outside than face the gun in this airless cellar
hole, I went outside to get the water. I suddenly
saw a wagon on the other side of the burnt house,
out of which two groups of armed gentiles jumped
and began to run toward me. There were about
12-15 of them, and they held rifles in their hands.
I began to run breathlessly in the direction of our
hiding place, where I blurted out to Yoel in one
breath that the murderers were chasing me and
climbed into an adjacent secret hiding place.
Yoel was lying in the front part of the open
cellar over the little partition that divided the
underground hole into two parts, while I closed
the small door and got into the adjacent compartment.
When the men suddenly entered, they
barked at Yoel, demanding where the "little one"
was, and he told them I had gone to get some
water.
They searched all around the hiding place,
inside and outside, but did not find me. They
then came back inside the cellar and began to
search for me. They were only about 6 inches
away from me, separated only by a thin partition.
I was sitting on the other side, keeping the door
shut and holding an axe in my hands. They were
probing the walls with sharp bayonets, knocking
on the walls with their rifles, but did not notice
anything. They were searching until late in the
evening. When it got very dark they shot Yoel
twice and left the cellar, locking it from the
outside.
After waiting and hallucinating probably a
few hours, I broke the lock and went outside. It
was as dark and cold as I felt inside. I was shaking
in deadly fright. A strong wind was blowing. The
trees were rustling just like in an old cemetery.
And I-I was all alone, in this big, wide, cruel
world.
I began to wander out at about midnight, and
on into the next day even when it was already
bright daylight, for I did not care anymore. I
reached a distant village and was met by two
peasants who demanded that I go to the commander-in-chief
of the Ukrainian nationalist
band of the entire area.
I had no other choice, so I went to the commander,
who looked at me with bewilderment.